Soaking it In...

I can't recall a dream I've had about my own babies, but I have longed to dream of them since they went home to heaven thirteen (and twelve) years ago. Last night, I dreamed of many of your babies. I couldn't make them out, but I dreamed of so many babies that have gone home to heaven and family after family needing comfort. I suppose it is because the grief of many has been heavy on my heart.

Everyday, I speak to or read about, or exchange email with a mother who has buried her child. Since May 13th, we have sent more than 45 (and counting) Dreams of You packages to grieving families around the country. Truth be told, I had no idea when I took the first steps into this journey that the need was so great. I didn't know the level of broken-heartedness I would encounter, the magnitude of loss that would surround us. I spent much of the past thirteen years healing. Only the last five years have led me to the path I now walk beside many of you.

Suffering exists all over the world, and to some of it, I have turned a blind eye. There is always more that we can do to feed the hungry, to comfort the grieving, to reach out to the lost, to restore the broken. The need is endless. And, yet, this is the corner of suffering that God has given me to look upon. This tiny corner of need. In my dream it seemed endless and constant...so many families. But, in the face of all the suffering in the world, it is just one tiny corner.

This week, three families have lost a child in our region. In this small community, that is a large number. I won't lie, the losses have hit me hard this week. Even as I prepared Dreams of You Baskets for these families, more emails are coming in from mothers across the country and beyond. More mothers who have said goodbye to their babies. My heart breaks for each one.

Every once in awhile, the emotion builds up and spills over for me. And, when it happens, I struggle with feeling selfish for allowing my own sorrow to take my attention when so many are suffering. When I need to stop and pray for myself...for strength to offer comfort, for wisdom to know what a family needs, for comfort for my own aching heart...I feel selfish. While talking with others who work with grieving families, I heard the same struggle and sentiment expressed this week. And, as often happens, the struggles in my own heart became more clear as I listened to them.

It isn't selfish to feel pain for another hurting soul. It is human. It isn't selfish to ask for prayer...to know that we are too weak and small to carry the burden alone. It isn't selfish to ask the Lord to fill us up, that we may give more to those in need...to comfort us, that we may give comfort. Being willing to hurt with someone else is a privilege, a gift...a gift that comes with a price. But, true compassion sometimes requires a heart that is willing to break...over and over again.

This week, while many in our community struggled to make sense of the tragic loss of a two day old baby, one friend of the family expressed guilt, wondering how she could feel joy in her day when her friend was suffering. I thought about that often this week. I was preparing to leave on a camping trip with my family...very much desiring (and needing) to focus on relaxing and experiencing the joy of the moment with them for a few days, when the call came, requesting our services. Not only would the funeral home oversee the needs of the family whose baby had died, but also the parents who lost their teenage daughter. I stopped midway through packing my suitcase, and tried to mask the tears falling as I listened to the voice on the other end of the line. My heart throbbed with the familiar ache of sorrow as I hung up the phone. I stopped packing to pray for the families and prepare a Dreams of You package.

I let the tears fall for a little while, and thought of how much my family has seen those tears as I cry for so many. I thought of how much we needed to embrace joy this weekend. They needed me to focus on them, without distraction. They didn't need the heavy weight of sorrow. So, I asked the Lord to help me put away the sorrow and embrace the joy. It's something I believe He has been teaching me to do, as I continue to learn how to serve Him in this way.

I used to feel guilt experiencing joy when there was so much sorrow. But, one thing I have learned in the midst of so much suffering is that we must embrace the moments of joy when they come. For, we never know when we will be called to suffer in our own life or to walk with someone else who is hurting. And, there are plenty opportunities for weeping. When a moment of joy comes our way, we must soak in every inch of the gift. It may very well be the thing that carries us through the next difficult time in our lives.

Another friend expressed it well when she said, "It isn't selfish to embrace joy in our own life when we know others suffer, it is an act of gratefulness for the gift God has given us." If we don't cherish it when it comes, and cherish the people He has given us to love, it will pass...and we will miss it. There is plenty of time for grief, for suffering, for sorrow in this life. We should weep with those who weep...but we should also take time to rejoice with those who rejoice...to live in the land of the living...to love with abandon. There is a time to mourn and a time to dance, and there are gifts in both seasons. When the time to dance comes, I don't want to miss it because I'm too busy mourning. So, I will mourn when it's time. And, when it's time...I will put it away and dance with those I love while I am able.

I pray that you will do the same...that you will embrace joy when it comes with freedom and abandon...and without guilt.